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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23683024">Big Boy Br'aad and the Basement Brawl</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/qvill/pseuds/qvill'>qvill</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Just Roll With It (Podcast)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>(as do I so oops), Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Dnd combat, Injury, aka a little 'what if this scene went differently', also br'aad def has that little sibling complex, liberal application of dnd turns, welcome to we hurt br'aad both in canon and in fic</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-04-16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-04-16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-02 16:27:02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,599</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23683024</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/qvill/pseuds/qvill</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>If he can be certain of anything, Br'aad can at least confirm that he's dumb. And sure, it's a blessing and curse. He's sure thankful that he can be the one to provide a necessary distraction, or stall for some time, or even make a fool of himself performing to earn he and his companions safe lodging. </p><p>Other times, it leans towards being a curse. But that's alright. He's the resident idiot; he's not quite allowed to complain. </p><p>[ or, br'aad teleports into the tavern, visits the basement, and tries to save his friends. ]</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>84</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Big Boy Br'aad and the Basement Brawl</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This is a scene rewrite of the under-tavern fight with Br'aad, Taxi, and Velrisa in episode ten season one (I think it's ten lol), focusing on Br'aad's thoughts and a little 'what-if' pertaining to rolls, actions, and luck. I'm unsure if I'll continue, as it'd require me to double check a lot of lore, and I have a spotty memory already. </p><p>That being said, I probably got some details wrong, so That's A Thing. but yknow its a fic for a small podcast so I Think I'm Good. </p><p>I also had some fun mixing my own writing style with my interpretation of br'aad's thought processes, and that's kinda rad. </p><p>let me know what y'all think !! I wrote it in a day and decided to toss it up.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Br’aad <em> knows </em>he isn’t smart, and that’s the best part of it. It can be embarrassing, certainly, and he has found himself in quite the few pickles because of simple oversights. </p><p>Other times, he couldn’t be more grateful that he didn’t have the standards of nobles, or the stern nature of Velrisa, or even ol’ Taxi’s moral panics. It meant that he could be relied upon to change the nature of circumstance. That’s <em> his </em>power, baby! He’s a distraction that lets someone land a needed blow, even if he gets hurt for it, or earn much exasperation from the others. He can stall for time. He can get extra information with a little act. He can pocket coin to pay for their meals, and he can put on a show good enough for safe lodging, too. </p><p>And if all that came with a little embarrassment, a little bit of eye-rolling? He’d take it every day. </p><p>But Br’aad knows he isn’t smart, and his patron knows this, too. Ob'nockshai <em> sure </em> knows that Br’aad is dumb and reckless enough to dance with fate, and maybe <em> that’s </em>why Br’aad found himself teleported to the tavern, with the opportunity to save his friends whispered to him. Maybe that’s why he’s the one who goes to the barkeep and spins a fable about being from the future, and not from a couple miles away. Maybe that’s why he sprints down the staircase, sees the burly man in the doorway, and doesn’t think twice about sliding through his legs to get to the room beyond. </p><p>But fate is a fickle dancer, and not even self-proclaimed idiots can defy her when she spins the scene. Fate changes. Br’aad faintly hears the rolling of dice as his patron’s laugh fades away, and he’s hit with a wave of vertigo. </p><p>But he’s the idiot. He <em> can’t </em> suffer from more than his own afflictions, that’s not <em> acceptable. </em>He shakes his head and dives through the man’s legs. </p><p>This time (the wording resonates, despite not knowing how), he lands with much more grace. He picks up details of the room as he goes, rolling onto his feet, and sliding to stand alongside Taxi and Velrisa. He’s in a fighting stance, one hand sparkling with energy while the other hovers above his dagger, and he grins at his companions. <em> Friends</em>, even. </p><p>They look impressed. They look scared. That’s alright. He’s scared too. </p><p>“Good day,” he greets, and he smiles, because he can’t be scared. He’s <em> Br’aad.  </em></p><p>There’s a small man— gnome, perhaps— who catches a coin mid-flip. He stares at the newcomer, looking a bit shocked, but more… amused. “Oh, looks like we’ve got a visitor now, too,” he says, and Br’aad really isn’t thinking when he monologues. He stalls for time, even though <em> he’s </em>the only help they could have waited for. He says some dumb shit about the burly man, and then fibs some other bull, eventually asking for the gnome’s name. Taxi sighs beside him, while Velrisa hisses something to him. </p><p><em> “Had no choice,” </em>he hisses back, and he only hopes that they can recognize when he’s being genuine. </p><p>“You may call me… the Collector,” the gnome says. </p><p>Ah. Br’aad thinks he’s heard that name before. What fun!</p><p>“Sick. And <em> I’m </em> Br’aad, and <em> I’ve </em>come to collect!” he quips. When he says his name, there’s a faint recognition in the Collector’s eyes, as if he had heard his name in passing conversation. </p><p>Meanwhile, Velrisa quickly squeezes his shoulder in affirmation, and he can tell that Taxi’s nervous stance shifts into one more combat-based. Because despite everything, it’s <em> their </em>idiot that arrived. </p><p>“One more fodder,” the Collector notes, but still looks contemplative. Then, “Get ‘em, boys!” </p><p>Footsteps thunder and the basement is a battlefield with merely words, but Br’aad’s <em> their </em>idiot, and he’s here for them. Even if he should be embarrassed. Even if he gets hurt. </p><p>Figures pile through the doorways on the side of the basement, and the burly man sets his eyes on Br’aad, irritated and eyes gleaming in bloodlust at the fellow who snuck past him so nonchalantly. He exchanges a glance with his companions, each facing another division. Archers, fighters, the gnome, the burly man, and they exchange nods. Taxi tries to whisper something, but Br’aad doesn’t catch it. </p><p>It’s for the resident dumbass; it can’t be worth Taxi’s time. </p><p>The dance of the fight begins, as his companions lunge towards their own enemies. The fighters and archers around Velrisa and Taxi are weaker, but their numbers certainly make up for it. </p><p>So Br’aad is left with just the burly fellow, and that’s okay. He’s just trying to minimize the problems his companions face. </p><p>Taxi summons a flame blade, Velrisa dodges blows and whizzing arrows, and Br’aad darts to the side as a fist flies through where he was standing. The burly man is laughing a low, guttural chuckle, and Br’aad says something irritating back. He can’t quite remember the moment it’s out of his mouth. </p><p>They dodge. They dance. Br’aad lunges forward, grabbing onto his opponent’s arm, and he feels the electricity coursing through his fingertips to the man,  but <em> it’s not enough (it never is). </em> The large man only laughs again, before his giant fist closes over Br’aad’s wrist, and <em> whips </em> him off, and with a hearty swing, sends Br’aad flying ten feet, slamming into a wall just behind the Collector. His skull <em> cracks </em>against the stone. </p><p>But he can’t fucking stop, he’s got friends who need a distraction and some help that they didn’t ask for, and <em> even </em> with the room spinning, and <em> even </em> with the Collector brandishing a dagger and stepping his way, and <em> even </em>with the burly man cracking his knuckles as he approaches, he darts forward, a hand splayed out to send an Eldritch blast towards someone giving Velrisa a hard time, and sending the other one towards an archer, just ready to fire. They strike true, and his allies glance his way. </p><p>They even look a little thankful. He smiles back, and he goes to fling his dagger towards a man with a mace headed right towards Taxi. It hits the man’s arm, cancelling out the attack, and Taxi opens his mouth to say something to Br’aad. This time, he pauses to listen. </p><p>He even gets to hear a “Thanks, Br’a—” before something spiked and iron slams into his side, sending him sliding across the stone floor, slamming into the <em> fucking </em> wall again. This time, for added flavor, the Collector is standing there, dagger in hand. Br’aad’s world is spinning, and there’s <em> definitely </em>blood seeping into his shirt. Taxi’s cutoff shout turns into a surprised, maybe even panicked yell for him, and that’s kinda appreciated, really. </p><p>The Collector steps beside him, nudging his head with a boot as he groans. He notes the tattoo, and lets out a little <em> hmm </em>. “Curious,” he comments, and jams his dagger into Br’aad’s side. The half-elf lets out a strangled shout, but the blade slips out with ease, and sinks into his shoulder a moment later, down to the hilt. </p><p>Faintly, Br’aad thinks he can hear dice rolling as he’s being gutted like a fish, but he’s a bit busy blacking out to pay it any mind. The world goes dark for a long moment, and he feels warm. It <em> may </em>be the blood. </p><p>The dagger is wrenched from his shoulder, he feels, and it hurts. It really does. But his head just falls against the wall, as warmth trickles down his shirt. The burly man’s laugh moves away, as do the little funny footsteps of the gnome. </p><p><em> Rats </em>, Br’aad thinks, and he faintly feels like laughing. </p><p>Something passes. Probably time. </p><p>The world shifts back to just being blurry when he hears flames and hissing, and there’s a hand pressed to his shoulder. He bites his tongue at the stinging, and almost slumps again when it fades into soothing relief. Another hand moves to hook under his arm, pulling him onto his feet. They hobble before they settle against the ground. </p><p>He looks up, and meets Velrisa’s tired, worried gaze. She shoves him toward the doorway, vacant of the guard, and begins sprinting towards Taxi. “Go!” she shouts. </p><p>Blood dripping and head throbbing, he knows that he isn’t the one to disobey her. She’s got wisdom he can only dream of. And so, hobble he does, through the doorway and up a stair or two. There’s some more commotion, and he hears footsteps fast approaching. He doesn’t dare look, but within moments, Velrisa darts past him, and with his cat-like agility, Taxi, too, slips past him, even offering him a hand to support him. </p><p>He smiles. They’re all together, and they’re getting out. That’s what he’s supposed to do. </p><p>Then there’s a whizzing of an arrows sinking into the stairs by his feet, and a dagger slashes across his ankle before sticking into the staircase, and Br’aad hardly has a moment to assess the wound before his muscles tense, and he can’t even laugh at it being <em> another </em>poisoned dagger before he slumps against the stairs. </p><p>There’s shouting, there’s <em> noise </em>, and even hearing begins to blur. He’s just a fool, bleeding on a staircase, but he has initiative enough. </p><p><em> “Get out!” </em>he projects into Taxi’s mind, and he struggles to bring his head up, watching the tabaxi at the top of the stairs look at him, nodding, and darting out of sight as arrows fly his way. None hit their mark. </p><p>It feels righteous, Br’aad thinks, and the thrill of it is enough to allow unconsciousness to best him at last. </p>
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